Pumpkin Guts
by buganeer
Summary: A slightly fluffy Halloween story, inspired by MGG's infamous and adorable Halloween pranks.


_And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead...  
And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets.  
~William Shakespeare, __Julius Caesar_ _[II, 2, Calpurnia]_

"Are we doing this?" Reid asked, his voice full of mock bravado. It was pitch black, no stars in the sky, and the chill in the air made his veins feel like ice coursed through them. He was dressed all in black, head to toe, as was his partner. His adrenaline was pumping and his hands were shaking.

"Reid, I'm not sure this is a great idea…" came the other man's voice. He was shivering and huddled against the house, under the window, trying to keep warm. "How did you talk me into this?"

"Relax, Hotch, it'll be fun." Reid was fumbling now with a pumpkin, setting it on the porch and lighting a candle inside. Hotch came up beside him, setting another pumpkin on the porch. They had two large burlap sacks full of pumpkins between them. When they finished, they'd covered Morgan's entire porch with sinister glowing pumpkins. Reid stepped back to admire their masterpiece. The trick-or-treaters were all in their beds, it was nearly midnight now, but the streets were still littered with scraps from candy wrappers, toilet papered houses and costumes that fell apart as the children ran through the streets. Reid took a deep breath and let his lungs fill with the icy autumn air and warm pumpkin smell.

"Look at that!" he whisper-yelled at Hotch, amazed by the glowing orange orbs. He knew he shouldn't have said anything, but he was just so filled with awe at the sight that he hadn't even considered the consequences. Hotch looked over at Reid and nodded, he was impressed with the sight as well. If Morgan's son was anything like his as a toddler, his mind would be blown, which was the only reason Hotch had agreed to come in the first place. He was still on the porch when the living room light flickered on and Reid dove onto the lawn behind a shrub. _Shit_ , he hissed at himself. Hotch couldn't see the light come on, and as he began creeping back off the porch, the screen door swung open, catching him and launching him down the steps and onto the sidewalk. He lay there a moment, dazed and motionless, watching the blurry images of glowing pumpkins tumbling down the steps, fires quickly dying out.

Standing in the glowing doorway was the impressive shadow of Derek Morgan, gun in hand. His gun was leveled at the lump of human on his sidewalk that was Hotch.

"Morgan! Don't shoot!" came Reid's voice, frantic from somewhere in the yard. Morgan lowered his weapon.

"Reid?!" he called, furrowing his brow. He looked down at the pumpkins, their menacing faces grinning up at him, and it all clicked. Reid. Halloween.

"Hotch! Are you OK?" Reid called out, rushing to his friend, who was still lying dazed and confused on the sidewalk. Hotch tried to steady his vision and blinked up at his friend. He'd hit his head pretty hard on the sidewalk, and it took a few moments for clarity to return.

"My shoulder," he said, quietly, but stopped himself. "I'm fine." Reid frowned at his friend, shaking his head.

"Morgan, you broke Hotch," Reid called as he watched his friend trying to make a path through the pumpkins on the porch.

"Sorry, man," he called, finally getting through. "You woke me up with your whispering and banging around, what do you expect? You can't just sneak around a guy's front yard like that…especially on Halloween..."

"Light sleeper…" Reid muttered, shaking his head. His own fault. He should have known. He placed his hand on Hotch's back and tried to help him sit up, but Hotch recoiled from the touch and moved to sit on his own. His head was throbbing, his shoulder felt like it was on fire, but he tried to shake it off. He'd lived through worse.

"I'm fine, Reid," he muttered, clearly not telling the truth but trying to save face. He knew he wasn't hurt badly, just banged up, and he didn't need anyone fawning over him, least of all a member of his team.

"Let's go inside, guys." Morgan held out his hand, and Hotch accepted with his good arm, allowing himself to be helped to his feet. He brushed himself off painfully and followed Morgan inside.

"It was for your son…" Reid muttered as he walked with his head down, feeling like a failure. His masterpiece, his grand plan, ruined. There were pumpkin guts all over the porch, he was lucky nothing but the pumpkins had lit on fire, and he'd gotten his boss hurt. Not a great Halloween prank. "Don't let him see this. I'll clean it up in the morning, I promise."

"Thanks, man, but next time just ring the doorbell ok?" Morgan called from the kitchen, grabbing a bag of ice for Hotch. Reid looked at Hotch, his face was scraped on one side from where he'd landed, and he was holding his right arm gingerly against his body, but he seemed mostly ok. Morgan returned with the ice pack and Hotch grabbed it, holding it against his shoulder.

"Thanks, Morgan," he said, lowering his gaze for a moment. He was utterly humiliated. "No more Halloween for me, I'm too old for this."

"You and me both, Hotch. Want a beer?" Morgan asked, taking pity on his friend. Hotch breathed a sigh of relief and nodded his head.

"I'd love one."


End file.
